


Tattoo Roulette

by TempestRising



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Tattoo Roulette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:01:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8844106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempestRising/pseuds/TempestRising
Summary: When James proposed the game, Niall did the math and figured he'd only have a 20% chance of ending up with tattoos on his previously pure skin. The night didn't go as planned.
Or: I'm appalled that no one's written a tattoo roulette where Niall ended up with the wrong box so here it is.





	

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_James: Look at your hands! Your hands are actually shaking!_

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_Niall: Ahh! First time on TV_

.***.

James told them when they got into the studio, practically bouncing from excitement as he leaned against the door of the band's dressing room. "It's completely new!"

"Because it's completely insane," Liam said, sounding almost in awe of the idea.

"You're the only band I could do it with," James wheedles, "the only one I'd feel comfortable doing it with. But obviously if you really don't want to then we'll do something else that's way less interesting. Never have I ever or something."

They all groaned in unison, glancing towards each other, gauging the room. "Can we have some time to think?" Harry asked, clearing his throat and looking pointedly at the door.

"I have no problem with it," Louis said once the door was closed, "it sounds like fun. And it's our last big interview. Why not go out with a bang?"

"Yeah," Harry steeples his fingers, learning his head on the tips, "That's sorta what I was thinking."

They both looked over at Liam, whose eyebrows were drawn together as he looked at Niall, "I think this one's up to Nialler," he said, "I don't mind, but I don't got pure pale skin."

"If you make it through five years with a boy band and still don't have a tattoo," Harry mused, "I guess you're never gonna get one."

Niall was looking at his arms as if ink might appear spontaneously while he looked the other way. He'd never wanted a tattoo, plain and simple. He'd been with the lads loads of times as they got one, chatting with whoever was mutilating themselves this week.

"Is it the needle?" Liam asked, reaching across the coach to touch Niall's shoulder.

"He's literally been sliced open, Payno, I doubt he's scared of a little needle."

Harry shot Louis a look. "Let's let Niall speak for himself."

"It's not needles," Niall said, still looking at his arms. "Not all of it, at least. I just. Never wanted one? I think they're fine on you lot, 'course, but for me..." He thought about it. "Me ma would kill me."

Liam nodded. Harry slid over to the couch, throwing one arm over Niall's shoulders. "Then we won't do it. No big deal." Liam nodded immediately. Louis looked unsure.

They were there early, rehearsal in an hour, and while Niall was glad for the downtime Louis tended to get bored. He stole Liam's shirt and started doing impressions of the younger boy's swagger as Liam chased him down the hall, Niall leaning against Harry, who was still for once, laughing and laughing, so hard they couldn't breathe.

Everyone piled back into the dressing room, Liam tugging his shirt firmly down, to eat Chinese from that place Louis liked. Louis kept sprinting out the back door to talk to fans, Liam peeling after him. Harry drank his protein whatever and Niall's hands were already shaking. "I'll do it," he said after taking a shower, Harry nearly asleep on the couch.

The long haired boy opened one eye. "Don't say yes just because Louis wants to do it. Or James wants to do it."

Niall clasped his shaking hands behind his back. "I want to do it."

Harry gave him a long look, then shrugged. "you always sound more Irish when you're lying." But he waved a hand. "if you're sure, then go tell James. He'll be over the moon."

James hugged Niall, lifting him into the air. "Are you sure? This is amazing! Are you sure?"

Niall nodded, made himself breathe as James launched into more explanations about the game. When he went back to the room the other three quarters of One Direction were in deep discussion, breaking off in a not-at-all suspicious way when Niall came in.

"No pranks," Niall pointed at Liam, who never could lie, "not tonight."

Liam nodded earnestly. "No. 'Course." he cleared his throat. "Um. Harold has informed us that you're willing to get a tattoo."

"Only a one in five chance," Louis interrupted, "that's only 20%."

"Thanks, Tommo, after all these years I never knew what one-fifth was," Niall rolled his eyes at Louis, who grinned and shrugged, rubbing his own too-skinny arms. Most of the time Niall never noticed the tattoos, only wondered how Louis had managed such a 180 about them. But today they seemed like so many vices.

For a long second he missed Zayn, missed him in spite of this hellish year, missed how the quiet boy would draw on Niall's arms, on Harry's arms, on Liam's arms, gratifying every surface, needing in every moment to create. And then Liam pulled him into one of those hugs only Liam could give, long and solid like falling asleep, and Zayn vanished like the dream he was already becoming.

Niall wanted to eat but couldn't, and the other boys didn't make him. They all had their tricks, roughhousing or sleeping or what Niall did, what he usually did, talking to everyone around him. The boys, yeah, and the band, but they were together so long and so often that Niall was sure they knew each other's every thought. So he wandered around backstage and talked to a couple interns (his age, he was the same age as interns now, his life had he had a different life) one boy shadowing the stage manager with whom he fell into a conversation about golf, the boy obviously having little clue about why exactly Niall was there, what a nice change, and a girl following the camera, short and pretty and shy, asking Niall, very sweetly, for an autograph on Made in the A.M. And Niall signed, and explained to the girl, as nicely as he could, that it Wasn't Done to ask for autographs, and she looked sheepish and grateful. "It's almost Christmas," the girl said, slipping he disk into her purse, "my little sister will flip." They talked for a while about siblings, and then it was an hour to show and the girl had other things to do.

Niall wandered some more, found Liam and Louis playing hide and seek in the stairwell, which was really just tag, jumping over the railing, grabbing each other in head locks. Niall ducked both of their swats, finding another door and running now into Billy Crystal.

"Oh, look," the older man said, steadying Niall before he fell over, "it's one fourth of One Direction."

Never knowing how to address these people he'd admired for so long, Niall stuck out his hand, was told to call the comedian Billy, found himself tongue-tied as he didn't often get.

"Your whole band's been running into me," Billy said, "or onto me. Those boys on the stairs dropped on my head."

Niall blushed, rubbing the back of his neck, a habit he knew for a fact he'd picked up from Liam. "Sorry. They don't mean it. I think they're trying to slip security again."

Billy waved the apology away, eyebrows coming together in concern, "no harm done. You boys are too young to not have anywhere to blow off steam. I had to wade through your fans to get in here." He laughed, "it's a different life."

Niall shrugged. Everyone always commented on the fans but they were used to it. They had to be. He steered the conversation towards safer territory, told Billy Crystal that one of his favorite movies was When Harry Met Sally and they were off on that, on the Princess Bride, and suddenly it was fifteen minutes to show and Harry was there, nudging Niall for an introduction.

"Oh, I know you, Mick Jagger. I have nieces." Billy raised his voice, "though my nieces really prefer a certain skinny fella who fell on my head."

Louis and Liam, drenched in sweat, bounced up, Liam apologizing while Louis draped himself over Niall's back. "You good? You sure you want to do this?'

Niall shrugged. "If I wasn't there'd be a Niall-shaped hole in the wall."

"I wouldn't worry," Liam said, his hand on Niall's shoulder.

He tried not to, tried to remind himself that this was the last big thing for a while, that soon he wouldn't be wedged next to Liam on the couch, communicating by knocking their knees together. But as the show went on he kept looking towards the tattoo artist in the corner, twisting his fingers together into knots so frequently that Harry kept reaching over to untangle them.

He blinked and James was explaining the "game," asking Niall what he thought, the only one who'd escaped pop star fame without adding to his scars with inked ones. He wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and hoped...but no, James grabbed his palms. "Your hands are actually shaking!"

Out of the corner of his eye Niall saw the other boys laughing at him. And he must look so silly to them to be afraid of this, which was...what? Just a permanent memento scarred into his skin. He told himself to quit being a baby, looking anywhere but at the boys' mocking faces, and made a joke as he grabbed his box.

The next five minutes passed in that strange way that times occasionally does, where Niall didn't feel like a participant in his own life but a helpless observer. This used to happen more often, when they were young and new and shuffled from place to place wide-eyed and amicable, and here it was again, time moving like a current Niall couldn't catch.

Louis and Liam, ludicrously unconcerned, popped their boxes safely. And James, who seemed almost as nervous as Niall, popped his box and...SAFE.

"Look at Niall's face!" the host pointed and Niall tried to remember how to breathe, leaning into Harry's embrace, letting himself be held by the youngest as he pat him on the back.

Now what had been a one in five chance had become a one in two and Niall was sure the camera was picking up on his shaking knees, the way his smile trembled.

And then Harry opened his box. And he was also safe.

Niall had his head in his hands so no one could see how surprised he was, how upset, but Harry was there, and Liam was there, and he hadn't even opened his box yet, had closed his eyes, was sure he'd look up and see his friends laughing at him, poor frightened Niall, can't even play a game without being the center of attention.

"You know what, James," Louis was saying as Niall let go of Liam. The crowd was insane, and Niall opened his eyes and saw that Liam wasn't mocking him at all, just looking so worried, eyebrows stitched together like this was just another puzzle to solve. "I'll take the tattoo."

"Lou," Niall began.

"Yeah," Harry spoke over Niall, tossing the Irish boy a smile. "I'll do it, too."

That caused an uproar, and Niall was almost forgotten as the crowd of girls got on their feet, screaming, shouting, chanting, "Larry Larry Larry!" and usually they ignored it, had ignored it for years, but now it was so loud it couldn't be mistaken for anything else, especially when Harry cut his eyes towards Louis before looking at the floor, embarrassed.

"What's a Larry?" Billy Crystal asked, wandering over to Niall and Liam as James attempted to get the crowd under control.

Niall let Liam explain the concept of shipping, because Liam was so honestly befuddled by the controversy, even after all these years, that Niall usually found it totally hilarious, but he was fidgeting, and soon went over to Louis and Harry. "You guys don't need to..." he began.

Louis waved him away, "this is my fault for goading you into it. You didn't think I'd honestly let you ruin that perfect skin?" he jerked a thumb at Harry, who was trying to help James get the crowd under control - they'd gone to commercial with the girls still chanting. "Didn't expect Harold to jump in, but it was brilliant."

And it was, the crowd seemingly having forgotten about the game entirely, a shrieking mob that had long convinced itself of half of One Direction's undying love. Liam had left Billy laughing to himself and went over to Harry. "Really?" Niall could see him say.

Niall gave Harry a hug and James came over to them, having finally gotten his studio quiet. "Back from commercial in twenty seconds, boys. Lou and Harry, you sure about this?"

Harry flashed James a thumbs up and Louis shrugged, both going over to shake hands with the tattoo artist who was eyeing the crowd like it was liable to descend upon him. 

"I didn't mean for that to happen," Niall whispered to Liam as James did the introduction and someone grabbed an extra chair for Harry.

"Oh don't worry, love, they're eating it up," Liam nodded at their band mates.

And they did seem happy, Louis and Harry always having a unique connection, finishing each other's thoughts, and it hadn't gone rusty, exactly, just hadn't been on display. "What if I got one Late and you got the other?" Louis suggested as the artist outlined the tattoos.

"That would hardly be fair," Harry pointed out in that characteristic rumbling voice. "Then it'd look like a label, and I'm not the late one in this band."

Louis knocked their knees together and Niall saw some girls in the audience crying, clutching each other, looking so, so happy, and he wanted to feel bad for being the one to add to the tattoos but he couldn't work up the energy.

"Maybe I'll get it, too," Liam mused to Niall as they watched the tattoos methodically appear on one boy, then the other, James and Billy doing their own interview while they waited. "We've got a band tattoo with Zayn but it'd be nice to get a new one."

"What am I, chopped liver?" Niall asked, but there was no heat in it, the boys long over asking him to get a tattoo (except for Louis, who wasn't over anything).

Liam draped an arm around him shoulders and Louis reached out with the arm that wasn't getting tattooed to clumsily pat him on the knee. And Harry automatically did the same thing. And their hands touched. And the crowd roared.

James was coming over anyway, and rolled his eyes for the camera to see. "So, boys," he said, gazing excitedly at the tattoos, "What is a Larry?"

"Friend of ours," Niall quipped, before either boy could get a word out.

Everyone, even the tattoo artist, laughed. They'd be talking later, at a party Liam heard about, and Niall would go with him to grab drinks and they'd come back to see Harry and Louis leaning so close their heads dipped on each other's shoulders, staying like that in the car and in the hotel room, whispering all night while Liam and Niall Sharpied Late Late on their arms and then got bored and drew all over each other, Niall ending up with a Batman logo on his elbow, Liam with a string of Gaelic creeping up his forearm. No one could remember when they fell asleep, just that Niall woke up with a mouthful of Harry's hair when Liam, who never could wait, pulled a clip of the show on his laptop.

"We should apologize to James," Harry said, making no move to get up, his newly tattooed arm linked with Louis's.

"What are you talking about? He's gonna have a billion views on this thing," Louis snorted. Liam scrolled down to the view count, five million and climbing, and cut his eyes to the two wrapped around each other on the couch.

Louis was petting Harry's hair and for once the youngest boy was allowing him, eyes drooping at the motion. It was still early. They had another interview. They'd have to talk about Larry, no way around it, and Niall would have to explain to someone who wasn't even going to try to understand that Harry and Louis had always been magnets, polarized just for each other. 

Old laughter from the computer, and Niall stared at the screen, leaning against Liam, and wondered how he'd ever thought last night's game was all about him.


End file.
